


The Cry Of The Lone Wolf: Diary of SPARTAN-B312

by WinterXAssassin



Series: From Team To Family [3]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Author Does Not Know How To Tag, Before the Fall of Reach, Child Soldiers, Drama, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, FUCKEN ONI HAD TO SPLIT UP THE S-IIIs didnt they!!, Family Drama, Family Shenanigans, Friendship, Gen, Halo: Reach, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Fall of Reach, Pre-Canon, REALLY emile?!, Separations, augmentations are painful as fuck, awkward tagging, how the fuck do i tag a bunch of diary entries as a story, i cant with the angst it hurts my chest, i mean hijacking a unsc vessel, im sure it was the same for the S-IIIs as it was the S-IIs, poor childrens losing one another, poor lonely kiddies :(, so no excuses there, then again they ARE kinda nuts, these guys get up to the most random shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterXAssassin/pseuds/WinterXAssassin
Summary: The "missing pieces" of From Team To Family, written from the eyes of SPARTAN-B312, beginning with Emile's stupid plan that gets them off Reach, and going from there.This now includes diary entries from when B312 was a cadet among the Spartans of Beta Company.*note that this will jump about in the timeline as it is only written when my brain comes up with plausible gap-filler ideas; also this is written in first person POV because it's supposed to be a diary*





	1. Just Another Crazy Plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noble Team discusses Emile's stupid plan to get them off Reach in one piece...and find that perhaps, it's not quite so stupid after all...

Camp Hathcock, Highland Mountains, Eposz, September 2nd, 2552

“No. That’s – that’s _insane_ , even for you.” Carter’s eyes were sharp, and his voice stern as he immediately shot down Emile’s stupid-ass plan which involved us basically hijacking a UNSC _Stalwart_ -class light frigate to get the hell outta dodge. Even _I_ thought the plan was stupid...and I was the one who had suggested that we save the Commander’s ass even though he was basically deadweight and we were working under a ticking clock.

But this? This _really_ took the cake.

“Come on man, work with me here,” Emile pleads, and for a moment, desperation flashes in his green eyes. “What other choice do we have? It’s either that, or sit here and wait for a rescue that isn’t gonna fucking come because we’re supposed to be dead!”

I roll my eyes and ignore their bickering, leaning against the wall behind me. I’d woken up from a rather refreshing sleep to _this_ – Emile in the middle of explaining what was possibly the most stupid plan in the existence of ever to the others.  Honestly, for an augmented soldier with a fuckton of kills under his belt, you’d think that he’d be able to use that big brain of his to come up with a decent plan to get us off Reach. But then again, Carter was made team leader for a reason.

“It wasn’t exactly the idea I was expecting, but it’s _plausible_ ,” the way Kat says that word makes it seem like she doesn’t believe it herself – and I’m not that surprised. She’s got the right to be wary of Emile, though _he_ called _her_ scary for her almost supernatural hacking abilities...this plan wasn’t “use a slipspace as a bomb and blow up a Covenant Supercarrier”-type stupid...it was something else entirely. That’s why everyone was so unwilling to agree.

Me? I don’t really care either way. I just want to get off this planet alive.

Jun and Jorge, for their part, remain silent, instead choosing to listen to and observe the back-and-forth argument between the other three SPARTANs. Jun seems amused; Jorge just looks like how I feel – tired and wanting to put the memories of his home planet burning behind him.

Oh yeah, did I mention that just like the big guy, I was born on Reach? Not in the same home town, mind you – he was born in the much-smaller Pálháza, whereas I come from the “crown jewel city” of New Alexandria. This is top secret information, mind you; my file is entirely covered in black ink so that even _I_ can’t read it. I only know where I was born from my memories, and I learned the name of my home city when Kat started hacking into my files a few days back and told me.

Whoops, getting off track here – better actually tune in and see if the others have gotten anywhere yet.

“-...which means that the only way off this planet is a vessel equipped with a slipspace drive, and the only one left is a frigate not too far from New Alexandria.” Emile was saying, waving his kukri knife around for emphasis.

“Why are you just stating information that we already know?” Carter says crossly, folding his arms across his chest. “I just – even if we pull this off, imagine the amount of hot water we’d land ourselves in! We’re supposed to be dead, and honestly I’d rather stay off the records as MIA because I’m getting a little tired of being bossed around by ONI.”

“There isn’t gonna be anyone of importance left...not to mention the fact that whoever is manning that vessel is probably going to be so happy to see an entire team of SPARTANs that they honestly wouldn’t care where they were told to go.” Kat points out, looking both troubled and thoughtful.

These words give Carter pause; he furrows his eyebrows in deep thought. Then, finally, he concedes the matter, throwing his hands in his air and letting them drop to his sides with a slap. “Alright, fine. I think we deserve a little bit of rule-breaking here...we’ve earned it. But you’re leading this one Emile, since it was your idea.”

“Now _that’s_ the kind of thing I wanna hear.” Emile is all smiles again; though of course that just winds up creeping everyone out, because if someone’s smile could be edged with knives, _his_ definitely would be.

At this point, though, I’ve gone beyond caring about his scary-ass sharp smiles...I just want to rest. Hopefully we can pull this off without a hitch – if we do, I’m sure we’ll all have a batch of Jun’s brownies to look forward to as a celebration. That man can bake almost as well as he can snipe targets, which is saying something.

Looks like it’s time to move out. Well, I’m sure you’ll find out how it went soon enough.


	2. You Can't Choose What Stays And What Fades Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back when they were still scared kids, the Spartans of Beta Company were close-knit. But after augmentations, everything changed, and some were removed from their kin...
> 
> (chap title taken from _Florence + The Machine's_ No Light, No Light. also big thanks to Thalius for suggesting _Florence + The Machine_ for title ideas! u the best hon  <3)

Camp Currahee trainee quarters, Planet Onyx, Zeta Doradus system, April 24th, 2545 

I rolled over onto my back, suppressing a moan of pain as fire shot through my nerves again.  _Toughen up, soldier, you're a SPARTAN now. No whinging about pain. Keep it locked down_. It really didn't help that I couldn't get comfortable. These beds weren't exactly made for comfort...they were cheap and made to harden us - get us used to the things we would be encountering on the battlefield. And plush bedding certainly  _wasn't_ on the list. Hence the rock-hard beds. Still, it didn't help matters that I'd barely just been augmented at twelve years old. That made the intolerable cots even  _less_ tolerable.

I bit back another moan as I shifted to sit upright, staring blankly at my now-large hands. And to think, roughly a week ago I was  _tiny_. I was one of the youngest candidates there, and I'd never really been...tall or solidly-built like some of my companions. But now...now I stood at around 6'5", and was built pretty well. Muscles all around, and body built purely for  _speed_. I was one of the fastest - perhaps even  _the_ fastest - Beta Company candidates; I had earned the moniker of  _Mercury_ among my peers because they'd seen how quick I could be...like quicksilver, sliding through the jungle with nary a sound.

 _Fuck staying in bed. I'm thinking too much and that's_ never  _a good idea._

Grumbling quietly, I swung my legs over the edge of the cot and misbalanced as my feet hit the floor. It was so awkward. Here I was, at only twelve years old, with the body of a twenty year-old Olympic athlete! But that was augmentations for you.

Slowly and in an ungainly manner, I shuffled over to another cot, this one belonging to one of my particular "sisters" within Beta, Lucy-B091, affectionately known as "Lulu". I bared my teeth in a rictus grin of agony as I lowered to sit on the cot beside her, bumping her shoulder to grab her attention. Wide brown eyes were the first thing that greeted me, and my Beta sister gave me a lopsided smile, running a hand through her close-cropped black hair.

What a contrast she was to me, with my own shoulder-length - I had always kept it beyond the length that the rules allowed, and I didn't give two fucks about it. Those in charge of us Spartans disapproved, but since I was ONI's pet, I guess they just never bothered to tell me off about it - flame red hair, and green-blue eyes the colour of the sea when the sun shines on it. And not only that, but augmentations had scarcely changed her physical appearance; she was still only 5'3", and wasn't very muscular at all. At a glance, one would normally assume that I was her older sister - but that wasn't the case. She was in fact born a month or so before me - she in late January, and I in mid February. And despite her size, she was as tough as the rest of us - in fact, even tougher in some ways.

Ah, here I am going off on a tangent again. I  _do_ like to think a good deal!

"Couldn't sleep?" Lucy murmured, giving me a two-fingered tap on the shoulder - a discreet gesture of affection among those of our kind. When I shook my head, she gave me a wry smile. "Me neither. It hurts all over. Especially my eyes. Feels like I can see every tiny detail...and it's giving me a headache."

"Me too," I agreed, releasing a heaving sigh. "Can hardly walk in a straight line, and I feel all clunky, which is saying something." We shared a quiet laugh; it was so opposite to how I normally was! We would probably be this way...all ungainly and aching and nerves-on-fire until we settled into our new bodies. And then we would all move like nobody thought possible. Like water flowing, like wraiths in the night, like beasts of war...like  _soldiers_. Because we were SPARTANs, the best of the best.

"You didn't trip over Tom, did you?" my sister asked, and I furrowed my eyebrows, tilting my head in question. Basically a silent  _what?_

Lucy smirked and gestured to the foot of her cot and I glanced down, seeing our other friend curled up as tight as he could possibly go - which was laughable, because he was almost as tall as I, and more solidly built - fast asleep with his face pinched in agony. I let out a snort of amusement, head wagging from side to side.

"Didn't see him there. Must be really tired." Tom-B292 was another candidate who was close to myself - and he was also close to Lucy. He was like a brother to me; younger than Lucy and myself by a couple of months, but still twelve. He had black hair and dark eyes, and could have passed as blood-relations to Lucy had he not carried himself differently. He was good-natured and loyal, like she was, but he also tended to talk a lot more than her...and they just seemed different, although close.

I was glad to know he was alright at least, and that he'd managed to get out of bed and  _attempt_ to sit and talk with Lucy. Attempt being the operative word. I figured he'd probably worn himself out - his cot was on the other side of the room, almost - and given up and fallen asleep there.

* * *

Lucy and I talked quietly long into the night. Tom woke up a couple of hours later and sat next to the end of the cot, inserting himself into the conversation with ease. At some point another close to us, Catherine-B320 - affectionately known as "Kat" or "KitKat" - joined us. At 15, she was older than all of us, and thus was the older sister of the group. She was the same size as I - 6'5" - but more solidly built, not with the runner's build that I had. She had dark chocolate brown - almost black - hair cut pixie style, and bright, crystal blue eyes. Unlike the rest of us, her voice held a Slavic burr - the result of being New Harmony-born. She looked after all of us - not that we weren't capable of doing so ourselves - out of the goodness of her heart, and we looked up to her - well I did. I think Lucy and Tom looked more up to the Lieutenant Commander, because apparently he was one of those SPARTAN-IIs that we'd all heard whispers of, and a legend in his own right.

Anyway....I'm going off on a tangent again. Dammit.

As I was saying, we talked long into the night - by the time morning came, Lucy and Tom were asleep, and it was just myself and Kat talking. When we saw the dawn light filtering into the room via the high windows, we fell silent, glancing at one another.

"Do you think they'll be splitting us up? You said that Alpha Company..." I whispered, too scared to finish that train of thought.

Kat frowned and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Even if we are split up, I promise I'll find you, wherever you end up. And we'll go looking for Tom and Lucy...maybe even Adam and Min as well, and we'll stick together. I promise."

"Me too, Kat."

I just hoped that we'd be able to see each other again if we were split up. I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing my brothers and sisters again.

* * *

Reach FLEETCOM Military Complex, Highland Mountains, Viery Territory, planet Reach, Epsilon Eridani system, July 24th, 2552

A quick glance at my Tactical/UGPS wrist attachment told me that it was 5:32 hours. So, I was early. Better to be early than late, I supposed. I stared out at the world beyond the open troop bay of a D77-TC Pelican dropship, expression hidden behind an impassive golden visor framed within a steel-coloured MJOLNIR Mark V [B] helmet. Not that it mattered...my face was set to a neutral default; unflappable, unreadable. Blank as anything, and eerie. It was I keep the helm on, because I didn't want to spook the handful of Army Troopers sharing the dropship with me. Not that most of them had been paying much attention to me - too busy talking and joking amongst themselves - but that wasn't the point.

I had been a lone wolf operative for my entire career as a SPARTAN, but now, that was all going to change. I was to be assigned to a team of five other SPARTANs - four Gen IIIs like myself, and one legendary Gen II. It gave me an odd sensation...I had never seen my own kind since I was twelve years old, let alone interacted with them. Was I nervous? Without a doubt. But I was also kind of excited. It was...a thrilling feeling. 

I knew I had to jam it down quick. 

I was a Lieutenant, and one of the best SPARTAN-IIIs around - there was a reason why a bunch of us, labelled "category 2s" - or "cat 2s" - had been pulled away from the other Spartans and set off to do other things. There was a reason why we were granted MJOLNIR armour. I was in fact one of the best of the best...labelled a hyper-lethal vector by some, and a lone wolf assassin by others. I was ONI's black ops SPARTAN...a lethal weapon in the right hands. And now, I was going to be part of a team of the best. No matter how good we were, we still got shot, and we still bled, and I'm fairly certain that we even still  _died_ , if the rumours about what had happened to Beta Company were true. The best of us could still die, and thus, I needed to tamp down on my excitement and fear before it cost me dearly.

I shook my head to clear it once the Pelican touched down with a jolt, and I bent my knees to brace myself as I jumped out the tail, striding towards an awaiting officer.

"Sir!" I snapped off a salute and stood stiff and straight, spine a steel rod, legs shoulder width apart and hands clasped behind my back. Clad in steel grey MJOLNIR armour, I was an impenetrable force...someone to be reckoned with, and  _not_ somebody you'd want to cross. Thankfully the officer didn't seem fazed by that, calmly acknowledging the salute.

"Lieutenant," he addressed coolly, handing me a datapad. "Debrief on Noble Team. An M831 TT is awaiting your arrival. Get moving, Spartan." 

"Yes sir." I turned on my heel and strode off, pulling up the files on each individual Spartan.

It was funny...by the time I read the words Lieutenant Commander B320, I had an odd feeling in my gut. There were so many voices, faces, and names within my memory; they were faded and fractured and buried with time. I'd never been able to hold onto those memories...and now it was probably going to bite me in the ass. The familiar pang in my chest told me that Sierra B320 was one of those faces, names, and voices...but I couldn't recall who.

That ached badly, it really did, but...that was life for you. You couldn't choose what memories stayed and what memories faded away.


End file.
